Homage to DMC
by mardehiel
Summary: The madness of a fan insults unwisely. violence, sarcasm, hinted randomness.
1. Twin Muse

**I DO NOT own Devil May Cry.**

**The Twin Muse**

**no. 1**

**A short man spoke.**

"Of beautiful things, brilliant works, elegance and eloquence. My life,my goal, my muse, **my God**!" He shifted his weight, holding up a mecahnical pencil as though casting a spell, so that his writings with this instrument would lead him down the path of greatness and excellence. Or maybe, he hoped the lead would turn into ink. In the solitude of his colorful bedroom/study, he stayed in stillness, conjuring up ideas with great potential for being considered a great work. He thought of tragedies, romance, and tried to excise cliches. He thought so much of beauty, which was to an almost obsessional level. He regarded great and famous writers and playwrights in an envious way.

He sighed. "What can I do?" Then an outburst. "Oh my love! Your death be my heart's decadence!" he shouted in an efemminate voice. He jotted it down. "That's one line." He believed that such line would be ideal for the lead female role of a love story. Once again he fell into his previous stupor of hard thinking. A moment later a loudness was heard. He tried and tried but couldn't concentrate. Once more he shut his eyes and tried, but the noise upstairs kept placing a block in his head. "Ugh. Arrrrgggh!" he uttered in frustration. He just couldn't and just wouldn't muse with all this ruckus.

So he was on a mission. A mission to complain like this, was all miscalleneous to him, for all of the core importance was in his mind. But like this he wouldn't focus. In his mind he wasn't a commoner. He was a self conceited and egotistical noble. He walked out his home and he ambled toward the stairs. He passed by a mirror then turned back. He observed his appearance. He smiled and modeled for himself, for a good ten minutes almost completely ignoring the uproar upstairs. He blew himself a kiss and went of f upstairs. The sound was getting more and more overwhemling as he got nearer to the source.

He had already ascended to the most vacant, and highest area of the building. The the **pain **shot through his temples. "Aaaggghh. Migraine. Must...get...back..and..." He rushed back to his home. Four minutes later, he returned with fluffy, pink earmuffs on his head. He walked toward the only apartment that was leased on that floor. He had quickened his stride and then stopped before the door. That door that which belonged to Gerard's offender. He knocked as loudly as he could, then he reiterated his previous action, still nothing. Completely scarce of patience he clenched his fist tightly, it trembled. taking up such stance he rammed it into the door.

A couple of seconds after he had done so, the effect kicked in. "Aaggggghhh! Foul thing! Open this door!" Then _he_ began kicking. It was not until after he had delivered three kicks with effort that he realized he was ruining his rather expensive footwear. He had flinched right after he had launched his foot in a position sure to place emphasis in the unpleasant sensation Gerard was about to feel. He stubbed his own toe. "Agggghhh!" His curses were muffled by the music that played as though it was a concert. He hopped on one foot, but soon after lost his balance, and this time his rump took the punishment. Almost immune to the humiliation he said "Ow." plainly.

All of it began to gnaw at him. The ugly music to his ears and the embarassment triggered something in him. The "dark" side, was this excessive determination that surfaced at that particular moment. Others thought this nothing more than ridiculous and mocked him by calling it the dork side instead. Though it didn't really matter since Gerard didn't care for the oppinions of commoners and to other people he was already a dork, basically. Being "evil" and even sadistic he decided to "toture" the door. Cruelty was in him.

He just simply put his foot on the door. _Cree. _He almost fell; taken by surprise. The door had somehow opened on its own. Slightly perpelexed, but everdetermined he opened the door slowly. The music was louder there than anywhere else. He could even hear the lyrics of that awful song in his head. Inside, there was a youth and a domestic beast. He stood in the doorway contemplating the room and its inhabitants. The boy was completely immersed in his video gameplay, gripping his PS2 controller tightly. The Doberman pooch lay beside him, snoozing. "Ahem." He tried to acquire the gaming youth's attention.

"Ahem!"he tried this time louder, but the youth remained unchanged, all of his attention claimed by his game. The boy known as Davi, cursed as he struggled with his current challenge. The dog however had caught on and sniffed a scent. A fruity, putrid scent that, Gerard's perfume gave off, warned the sentintel. The dog snarled at Gerard. It had all of a sudden become quiet, and then an outburst. "Woooohooo!", the youth exclaimed. A distinct "S" had appeared on screen. "Yeah! I rock! Did you see that Joule?" He had turned and spotted the distasteful visitor in the doorway. "Hey, what are you doing here? Get out of my house!" Gerard stepped in, anyway. "At last I have your undivided attention."

"Get lost or-- "Or what?"interrupted Gerard. "You'll call the cops. Or tell your daddy? Oh yeah, that's right, you don't have a daddy."he said cruelly. Davi frowned and went back to his game.

Gerard smirked. "Listen to me! I want you o turn down the volume!" Davi ignored him and went on to watch a cut scene. Gerard gazed at him and stood in front of the TV. He turned and faced the TV. He was about to turn down the volume when the cut scene that ocurred caught his eye. In the moonlight two silver- haired lads fought. They looked exactly alike, all except for their distinguished attrires. "Such beauty!" Gerard gasped. He had found **the** inspiration. Then Davi pressed the start button and cut to the actual gaming part.

"Put it back! Go back! I WANNA SEEE!" Gerard uttered hysterically like a child. Gerard then proceeded to snatch the PS2 controller from Davi's hands. He then shoved the young boy to the side. "That's it! Sick em, Joule!" The fierce Doberman leapt, and charged at the crazed artist. Gerard noticed and in excitement and confusion he fled, dropping the PS2 controller with a shattering noise. "Ahhhhhhhh! Haha heee! I've-- _Chomp_! Joule had clasped his teeth onto the bell bottom of his jeans. "Oh my muse! Ahh! I've found it but help meeee!"he shouted in a high-pitched voice. The dog went on to catch his shirt and began to tear his clothing. Eventually, Gerard's shrieks had annoyed the whole bottom floor.

Ten minutes later the residents had subdued the mighty Joule after he had torn half of Gerard's shirt off his back. Fortunately for Gerard, the only thing hurt and torn apart was his shirt and khaki jeans.

"Hey! Why' re you bothering people with all this babel! Some of us are trying to sleep!" said a resident sailor named Brad. "Yeah, some of us are trying to keep our kids asleep." said the mother with ten children. "And others are trying to meditate!"said the hipee girl named Jane. Davi had come out to enter the argument. He stood there with a stony expression. "You owe me a new PS2 controller."he said pointing a finger at the thrashed poet. The precision of the vicinity had turned to face Gerard as jury in a court room would eye the accused.

"Hey! I don't owe you a thing! Look what that mutt did to my precious shirt! It's more like _you_ owe me an almost irreplaceable garmet!" "Nu-uh! You owe me!"shot back Davi . "Shut up the both of you!"yelled the buff sailor. "He broke your game. Your hound tore his shirt. You're both even, and that's the end of it! So no more fooling around!" "But."Davi answered back. The tough sailor gazed at the boy. Davi piped down, knowing he couldn't win this dispute. "If you let that dog out on anyone, and cause what you did today. We all swear that we're gonna, hang you on the pole outside your window by your underwear."the man warned and the precision agreed. Gerard had smirked.

"And you,"he turned Gerard. "Next time you're being attacked, keep it down!" Gerard was very apalled by this, and remained until everyone had went back into their homes. His very minor shock wore off and he trotted to his room. He closed the door behind him and jumped on his bed. He thought, like always, but now he had thought of those handsome men. He knew it was just a video game, and that those comely persons were fictional most likely, but it just couldn't stop him. He **had** to write praises and song to their great attractiveness, he just had to. So he sat up and tried to remeber. He had noted a case lying about on the floor of Davi's floor but at the time it was of no importance to him. He had caught it but couldn't remmber. He tried harder. "De."he uttered one syllable. "Devil Mei..." He had known the word and it was "cry...Devil May Cry."

In much joy and having much hope he grabbed his computer and accessed the Internet; he had work to do. So this man was completely into his new topic, while in the alleyway near the side of his apartment, **something** was about to happen.

So reader, how'd you like it? Yeah Gerard's a loon, and Davi's got problems. I apologize if there were any possible grammatical errors I have missed, I'm only human. The ladies of DMC will appear in later chapters, ok. If you are looking forward to seeing Dante and/or Vergil appear in this fic, then I recommend you discontinue reading this fic to avoid disappointment. Thank you for reading!


	2. The blonde, the poets, and the brawl

The Blonde, the poets, and the Backalley Brawl

no. 2

"Oh, I just gotta know."said the short man. He further typed and had learned the names of the two fighting lads. The one clad in blue was said to be older and his name was Vergil. The shirtless, red coat one was Dante. So then he typed both their names in, "Vergil & Dante." Then he clicked one link that stated their names and had a warning. However being careless and overeager Gerard just clicked on it. Several obscene and suggestive images of the brothers had then popped up. You could say that the only "decent" image there was one of Vergil wearing a speedo. The rest were well, things that should be done in private. That was too hot to handle for Gerard so he clicked on another link that read "shounen ai."

This man knew how to speak English and French, but he didn't know Japanese, or of any crazy fandom, besides his own. "Eeeeeeeek!" Blood had spurted out of his nose and he had fallen back. Vergil and Dante had appeared to be a couple kissing passionately in a veranda scene. "Mon dieu!"he gasped. He clicked on another image, but this time to exit, he could swear he could be getting a heat stroke. He clicked again but nothing. The screen had frozen up, and a message had appeared. "Congratulations, perv. You have just received a virus." Gerard had looked at the text on-screen for a moment. "NOOOOOO!" His discovery had been further postponed.

-----------------------------------------------------------

In the alley next to Gerard's apatment building a thin, tan youth scurried for his life. "There's the punk, get em!"shouted a man, followed by a group of gang members. The boy ran it faster and went into a darker, deeper part of the alley. He came to a brief stop. He panted. "They're...headed...this...way." "The payment?"asked a provocatively dressed woman who had been awaiting his arrival. "The check has already been sent to your account." "Good boy, now leave so that I can go to work." "Just wipe them all out!"the boy said as he left the scene that was about to unfold. "He went through here!"the men bent on annihilating the the boy shouted. "Hey! Where'd that kid go?" Two men from the angry mob ran off to the end of the alley, and returned with a fruitless search. "No use boss, he must've went somewhere else." "Find the rat!" yelled the older man. Just then, the hired blonde woman stepped out from the shadows. She nonchalantly ambled toward them slowly.

"Hey, boss. Maybe that hooker over there knows where he went."suggested one member. "Hmm. Yeah maybe you're right. Go ahead and ask that hooker over here."said the leader while observing the comely figure approaching. So the nervous thug walked over to the woman. He took off his hat and began to speak. "Uh, hiya. Me and my pals were just wonderin' if you'd seen this skinny punk run by." The woman clad in tight clothes regarded them behind her sunshades. "Yeah, I've seen him." The thug seemed pleased by this. "He hired me." The thugs then were perplexed. "What? I mean, excuse me?" "He and his neighborhood hired me to.. "Ahahahaha!"one thug burst into laughter, while the rest of the hostile group stood with their mouths hanging open.

"As I was saying, I've been hired to beat the whole lot of you senseless!" the fair-haired woman declared, whipping out her massive sword, Sparda. "What is this?! So you're in it, with that punk, too!?" Trish stood there waiting for them to attack. "Alright then, guess will have to kill this dumb broad first! Charge!"said the leader. "Raaahh!"two thugs had obeyed on command and ran toward Trish with sticks and chains. The blonde woman brandished Sparda, repelling the attackers. Her slicing had split the wooden pole one attacker had been holding. "What the?!" the thug had realized too late who he was up against.

A flash and soon the two attackers fell to the ground. The other gang members then were alerted and Trish had appeared once more. They stood there hesitating. The leader had then broken the silence. "Charge you, morons!" Driving off the last bits of their indecisiveness, three went at the woman holding the massive sword all at once. This time Trish had turned Sparda to its scythe form. She struck one in the face with the pole end of the large scythe, and the next she kicked in the solar plexus. She then let the scythe fly carelessly, and went into a Royal Guard stance. Since the blonde woman had inhuman strength, they all had fallen easily in a short amount of time.

Surrendering to fear, the remainder of the group had fled. "Uh-uh. No, I want to live!" said one as he fled. "What?! Hey! Come back here you cowards!" said the leader in disappoitment. He quickly whirled around to see, the last of his men be beaten down by the powerful woman. After she had finished the last of the pitiful, willing to fight, she began to walk towards the head of the now dismantled cluster.

"Damn!" The forsaken commander then drew a pistol. "Stay where you are! Don't come any closer!" he warned. Trish paid no attention to his bluff, and continued to come closer to him. Being true to his warning, and overtaken by fear he fired, unsteadily. Trish dodged all of his volleys, and soon rushed toward him.

The panicking leader had then emptied his clip. Left with no alternative than to flee, he tossed away the empty firearm, and made a run for it. A good twenty feet away from her running target, the blonde had the chance she had been waiting for. She had been practicing something that the older Sparda twin had taught her to do with a blade. She lifted Sparda up into the air, and slightly stepped back as she did. Then she lanced it toward the direction of the fleeing man. "Ah!" the man fell to the asphalt, he had almost wet himself. The massive sword had missed him by centimeters. "Don't worry, that wasn't meant to get you. Just to stop you."said the blonde woman who now stood before him.

She smirked truimphantly. The frightened man then threw himself at her feet, and began to beg. "Please don't kill me! I was just following orders!"he began to weep hysterically. "Hey, chill man get it together. You're a grown man! I'm only going to ask one thing." The man's teary eyes of a puppy then gazed at her. He sniffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve. "I'll, I'll tell you everything!"he began to cry again. Trish just rolled her eyes, and began to ask when all of a sudden, she overheard someone talking in a loud voice. Even though the man next to her had been moving his mouth, in addition that it was feint and distant, she could definitely understand what the words were.(Due to her demonic powers of course.) "Are you listening?"asked the weepy man. "Uh, sorry what was that?"said Trish. "You're not thinking the way you plan to kill me, are you?"the man once again broke into tears. Trish sighed. _Here we go again._

_------------------------------------------------------------- _

Back to our not-so-charming writer, the virus had ebbed away since it was just some yaoi hater's joke. Gerard then inputted their names in single entries. "Whoa!"he gasped. "Dante and Vergil are allusions to actual and grand poets!? Then this is truly a sign that they in Fate, are destined to greatness! And I, shall take them there! To the Sparda brtothers!"he declared with his pen up in the air. He then went insane and began to type furiously in his computer and wrote in his journal. He coordinated with these two actions. Type, write. Type, write. Type, write. Type write, and so forth. Half an hour or so later, he still continued this pattern.

Now back the action/adventure part, Trish had been standing before an underground building. By underground it is not meant literally, but by more dark, and "secretive." She had been hired by the slums neighborhood to take out this stupid gang/cult from conjuring any demons. The tearful commander had told her all of the cult's whereabouts and plans. At 3:00 p.m. sharp the summoning was to begin. Trish had been simply waiting for the exact moment to bust in. She then had realized something. She didn't have a watch! "Ugh!" She was about to ask this pedestrian for the time, when a scream from the building was heard. Quite eager for action and having great desire to end this mission, the provocatively dressed blonde sprung into action and kicked down the door of the building. She found the reception hall deserted, but was back on track when the noises from downstairs intensified.

She sprinted toward the stairs, and skipped two floors by jumping down. The guards had abandoned their posts and had been fleeing when Trish had greeted one with a boot to the forehead, and the other with a punch in the face. She continued to run toward the doors straight ahead. As she neared, she unsheathed Sparda and charged the door. She entered and what she saw was not a pretty or good thing, but rather an annoying one. There were several of those bloody marrionettes all over the place. Those foolish, simpleton cult members simply did not have the mental capacity to control any of them. "Eeeek! Save me!"said one of them. "Save me, too!_"_another one replied. "Me, three!"another uttered. So the blonde was left with this mess to clean up. "Oh, joy."she said cynically.

-----------------------------------------------

Now, back to the crazed writer. "Yes, I've got it! They were destined to ..." He spoke to himself in the mirror. When he had whipped out his printer and installed it, his whole floor was now litttered with printed images of the twins, and a handful of exploded ballpoint pens were laying around. "Yes, yes! I do know!"he hugged his mirror and reflection. "They were ill-fated lovers. Reincarnated, at the start of a war. Both one and the same in an almost literal sense. But together they were reborn. So their type of original love was taboo. The one who had to obey the rules, ironically is the unruly one. While the other is angry and seeks power. He claims that he'll use it to destroy his now reluctant to love him past lover, but truly he seeks it to find a way to sever their biological relatedness! Yes! I have a masterpiece!"he announced to himself. Then, he began his disturbing victory dance.

While Gerard had been misinterpeting the twins' relationship, Trish had been dispatching all of those bloody puppets back to hell, and at the same time saving those clueless cult member's butts from the puppets' blades and daggers. She smashed the last of the those infernal marionettes, and went ahead to crash that stupid altar they had been using. She panted catching her breath. The rescued cult members then stared at her. She then began to talk loudly. "From here on out! No more funny business! Especially if it involves bringing in stuff from the Underworld! Got that?" The dumbfounded cult bobbed their heads up and down. "Cause if you do, I'm gonna find you and cut your stupid heads off!" She then began to leave, and when the doors she had charged through closed behind her she heard their voices once more. "We now dedicate this cult to our savior. We now name this group the Chapel of the Blonde Savior!"And they all cheered. "Arequirement is that all members must have blonde hair!" Disgusted by what she had just heard she headed toward the exit as fast as she could. The last thing she had heard was them saying,"Bring out the dye!"

She had another mission now that she accomplished this ridiculous one. But this time it was personal. Meanwhile at Gerard's. The overexerted poet lay face down on the floor. He then recommended to himself that he stay offline for a while. Vergil and Dante were really something they liked to toy with, especially in drawings.

**So, how was it? Yes, I know a bit of OOC. I thought it'd be interesting if Trish had borrowed some moves from Dante and Vergil. But the sword throwing thing isn't exactly a move, I think. I just remembered it from when Vergil does it to a drunk that mistakes him for Dante in the DMC3 manga. Lucia will be showing up in the next chapter, along with some other familiar faces that don't belong to Dante and/or Vergil. Stay tuned next week or the follwing one, and by the way if you think that crazy idea Gerard came up with is good or has "potential," go ahead and take it just inform me of it kay. (I'm no yaoi writer.) Thank you for reading!**


	3. Red, attempt, and commentary

**Red, attempt and commentary**

"Ah, yes it is time." said Gerard after he had concluded his movements with his hips and taunts. "Ahem." It was already the evening and he had come up with a poem.

_Clear and crystal raindrops fall from the sky._

_Their time together is nigh._

_The clouds parted, the moonlight revealed,_

_something fearful meant to be sealed._

_From the edifice they fought atop._

_Their strength matched, unknown if they would ever stop._

_They clashed and drew back to opposite sides._

_Another moment to spare their hides._

_Then one uttered words of hate to his brother, yes his brother._

_Though cut from the same cloth they fought each other._

"Yes!" He kissed the paper, and ran it through his laminating machine. Then he kissed it again. Deserving a well-deserved break, as he thought, he went ahead grabbed a towel and went into the bathroom for a shower, to cool down the heat of the moment. Then the blonde one had been sneaking around. She had clearly heard Gerard's plans to immortalize the Sparda twins. She had been investigating this poet's whereabouts, but mainly acting like a talker. She went into the building through an open window. "_Perfect, I'm here." _The room was dark, so Trish went ahead and sensed her way to a light switch. She thought she had heard moan. She flicked on the switch, revealing a repulsive sight. Trish stared in shock as a huge man stood in front of her caressing a pink, frilly plus size princess dress.

The man, known as Brad the sailor in the apartment building had secretly enjoyed wearing costumes of the such. "Uhhhh, this is my sister's, and...please just don't tell anyone!" Trish rolled her eyes, and went back out the window. She had somehow developed an immunity to such strange and offbeat things, due to her living with the Sparda twins, and in addition to Mundus, that idiot. The next time she went in through an apartment widow, she got the address right. "Yes! Now, where oh where can I put this little gem?"she said as she held a strange skull like talisman in her palm. "Hmmm." She spotted the bedframe. "Jackpot!" She went ahead, and grafted it on the spot. "That surely should get that kook."she said grinning to herself.

The talisman she had installed in Gerard's bed frame was a "stitch" to the underworld. Living her primal years there she knew her way around, especially with those little gems. But, to be on the safe side, she had set it to be in a void part of the Underworld. Where no demons resided or showed up. Gerard had returned long after the blonde demon had left. He suspected nothing more than success that was soon to come. But, alas for him it was all in his mind. He went and spent the couple hours before bed surfing the net searching and observing other fans works. He commented them all as being atrocious, and incomparable. "Hmph! Unsuitable! Bland! Stupid! Unclever!"and so forth he uttered complaints until he received another virus. "Hmm. I should perhaps go to bed now. Yes, I do need it." So he went off.

That night he truly dreamed of success. Beautiful unicorns were yoked into his chariot, and rainbows adorned the bright blue sky. "Ahhh." He felt as though he was being carressed by cherubs, when as always it might occur to some fools, the dream was broken off. "Hey, short dude." The man of short structure had turned to find a blonde woman speaking to him. "What? This scenery is just so...atrocious!" complained the writer. The dimension had been composed of an abyss like atmosphere with a spiral like design in the backdrop that would never cease to perplex. "Listen up." began the blonde-haired woman. "Don't worry. You've got nothing to worry about. I just want to talk." "Ugh, it's just this design...it's so repulsive!" Trish had an annoyed expression on her face by then. "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

"What? Oh, you're that undoubtfully, coarsely dressed underworld courtesan from the first installment. I must say that those clothes are way over the top too tight fitting."said the nagging poet, at last paying some attention to the thunder demon. Being accustomed to such comments Trish had ignored the insult, and continued to speak. "What?Anyway, why do you insist on writng praises for those two? Everyone knows that _we_, the ladies who kick butt, are the true center of the story."she said indicating herself. The writer shook his head. "I don't agree. All of you are just petty roles. You can't be as beautiful as them both." "I've already told you! We, the ladies of DMC are the core hotness!" Her sunglasses had fallen off due to her turbulent force, and aggresive nature. Gerard had picked thme up before she had woke from her trance. "Hmm. These sunshades, they're a good look for you." Trish had found some joy in being paid a compliment, no one had ever given her before.

"They're excellent and ideal, for covering those bags under your eyes."said the man flatly. Trish had clearly had enough. "Ahhhhh! YOU!"She had began to build up a charge in her palm aiming at the short poet. But, a rooster crowed, and soon enough Gerard was gone. Trish had released her blast afterward, missing by a few seconds. "Ugh, what sweet dream. What horirble nightmare."He rose from his bed, and looked at his computer with a flowery, Hello Kitty screensaver. He walked around, and started the day as if it were like any other. Back at the void abyss, the smoke and debris had settled. Trish had stood still in her blasting position. "Damn, I missed. Why did he have to be so short?"

In the solitude of his apartment room, much like in the first installment, he mused as always, but at this try his mind was set.

_"Since a melodramatic moment of their childhood hour._

_They embraced, and soon grew to love each other in a restricted way being in that incarnation. _

_It was all Fate's doing._

_ Starcross'd they were._

_ His female lover being reborn a man. _

_Who, vowed to find him. _

_But, she was a lady, and no woman ever dare degrade herself in such act. _

_So sacrifice came to pass for the pair. Rebirh in reincarnation, and love still remained."_

the petite man uttered to no one but himself. "Yes! I'm getting there!" So he continued with his strange work involving fervor. Back at DMC, the frustrated blonde had shuffled all away to the infamous half demon's shop. She had been depressed, and drained of all her spirit. She wanted nothing more than to kick off her shoes and crawl into bed, and sleep it all off. She sighed as she entered.

" 'ello Trish,"spoke a familiar voice with an accent. "Huh? Oh, it's you."replied to blonde to a red-haired maiden. Lucia had chosen that very day to visit everyone. But, everyone except for Trish had been out on a mission. " I zink Lady said zat boz sons of Sparda are out on a mission in Souz America. Zey won't be back until next week."spoke the red-haired maiden. "Yeah."said the blonde haired woman dispassionately as she let herself fall onto the cozy couch. "Lady was 'ere earlier but, she left for anozer mission."spoke once more the twin blade wielder. Trish had been seemingly ignoring her the whole time. "Is zere sonmezing ze matter?"Lucia had asked with concern toward her friend and ally. "No, it's nothing."spoke Trish burying her face in a pillow. Lucia could only shrug at this, and ended the conversation. She turned, and sat at a table, and continued to carve a wooden figurine of an antelope. It had been twenty minutes that had passed when finally, Trish rose her head and began to speak. "Hey, Lucia." "Yes?" "Do you ever feel as though you're ...nah, forget it." "What is is it? You can tell me."spoke Lucia as concerned as she was earlier. Trish sat up, and the women began their talk.

-------------------------------------

It had been the evening, and Gerard had done his day's work. He had prepared himself for bed, and once more thought of the magnificent twins. Slowly, he drifted himself to a slumber. After an unknown amount of time, the overtly passionate poet had awoken to find himself in a grim place. The place was perhaps as bad as the one where he had met the fair-haired Trish, but this time it was at least more natural or so it seemed. In a fog-like atmosphere with a grey sky, the slightly perplexed poet stood. A figure had soon approached. He had tried to adjust his vision, then the he was able to identify the figure. "Ugh, are these nightmares punishment for being so good, and dedicated to my life's work?"he said horribly vexed. Lucia had not heard this and soon curtsied."Greetings, I am Lucia of Vie de Marli." Gerard had pretended to yawn. "Sir, do you believe zat ze sons of Sparda are ze sole meaning of Devil May Cry?" "Hm? What? Of course! So what's it to **you**?"he answered almost aggressively. "Everyone is to be appreciated equally."spoke bravely as ever the foreign maiden.

"Are you trying to speak of such nonsense as you minor and almost meaningless characters should be so deserving?" Lucia was about to speak, when the egotistical poet had interrupted."Do you think and/or hold belief that you are very much a blazing radiance? NO! You are not! Nor you or any of your female friends can, may, or ever will be as beautiful as Veeerrrggggillll, and Daaaaannnteee!" Lucia, of course had a lot more patience than Trish, though she was beginning to feel offended. "I speak not of core fame for only certain people, but for all." "Ugh, no wonder people say that the sequel with you in it sucked, and was utterly atrocious. You were a protagonist, and that Diesel costume made you look like some clown. As if that hair weren't harlequin enough. Are you trying to compete with that ghastly Jester bloke?"spoke the poet rudely. That one genuinely left Lucia in a state of minor shock and even greater resentment.

She may have plotted her revenge, but too much time had elapsed and soon the poet began to disappear back into reality. In his bedroom, he sat up and complained as he had previously from his first wake after his meeting with Trish. He further continued his obsessive work on the silver-haired siblings. Back at the abyss-like location Lucia had been in, Lucia had stood there suppressing a great amount of her infuriated self toward that egotistical and peevish poet. At the current moment, however, she had something else to tend to. She had left Devil May Cry with her mind very set that she had forgotten to gloss over some minor, but important details. Lucia had no knowledge of the Underworld technology she had using. She had jumped into the gate without asking Trish anything else. Now she thought," '_ow do I get 'ome?" _So she decided to call out. " 'ello?! Ist zere anyone zere?! Soon enough a loud thud was heard. Lucia had sensed it of course, since they were all surrounding her. At least six hell prides had arrived to butcher the Vie de Marli guardian.

Not much of a challenge would it be to vanquish these hellspawn, but at least she had something to take out her fury on. She moved her red braid to the side, and grinned. She quickly drew her cutlasser, and began a series of swipes toward her enemies, slicing them to ribbons. The creatures paused in demise, and deterioted into sand, their remnants only sacrificial blood. Soonenough another batalion appeared, and advanced. The red-haired woman then began to fling her knives, and needles. After the sharp projectiles had met most of their marks, Lucia then continued her assault with her twin blades. When the hell beasts had all been defeated, silence remained. But, soon enough the battle music began to play again. This time, a colossal fiend had appeared. It snarled loudly, and snapped it jaws as it unsheathed its razor sharp claws. Lucia regarded it with a stony expression, and soon devil triggered.

-----------------------------

In Gerard's apartment, he pointed his pencil upwards, and threw it up, landing it on a poster of Trish and Lucia, who's images had been vandalized with unibrows, and mustaches. "URM! Yes! That ANGER!!." He had been getting a bit of motivation for the scene expressing Vergil's anger and resentment toward Dante in a soliloquy. "YES! I've got it!" His smaller victory was soon ruined by someone knocking at the door. "LANDLORD!" Realizing he had no means to comply with the set regulations, Gerard responded with only one word to himself. "Crap." The door had fallen in afterward.

--------------------------------

The red-haired guardian from Vie de Marli had returned to Devil May Cry. Her blonde-haired comrade had been awaiting her arrival. "So how'd it go?" The red-haired woman had not uttered a word, and sat down to open a bottle of whiskey and began to drink it like an alcoholic would. "Lucia? What did that...no not you, too!" Trish had uttered as she recalled her experience. Lady had been present, but far too busy cleaning out Kalinna Ann, and the rest of her assortment of firearms. "That guy is a f...fffmmmm!"she had muffled her profanities. "Something has to be done!" She then began to move toward the girl formerly known as Mary. But, before she could ask anything, a voice was heard. "Havin' trouble with some men are you, sweet things?" Trish had paused, Lady noted part of it, and the half drunk Lucia looked up from her second glass of cognac. "Who said that?!"spoke an alert Trish. "Mmm, look over to left, darlin'. I've always been here. Maybe I can be of some help." The trio had turn to view a wall full of devil arms.

**At last! I know what you people who, liked this fic said when you saw this story back up. The reason I was sidetracked was 'cause I remembered some very interesting things about Lucy, the accent and all. (Reference Pip Vernedead, uh.) About her weapons, I remember only three types of blades, and the dagger throwing ability of hers. The first set I don't know how to spell so if it's incorrect tell me about. In the midst of procastination for this fic I had written up some other several fics, mainly parody, so if you haven't read them do so, and send a review. Next up, well you should know who it is and was talking, duh. A special thanks to **Invader Thorn **for being kind enough to send me some reviews and appreciate my work. **

**Oh, and the --------- thing is for indicating an inference and/or prediction for what will happen. As used in films, and by lazy writers,(like meh) heh. Speaking of films be excited about the DMC fanfilm Tears of Sparda. Rock on, and thank you for reading!**


	4. The talk about yaoi, destiny, and the

**The Talk about Yaoi, "destiny", and the scarylooking ones**

Plopped down on his chair and holding a pencil, a man of diminutive structure thought, thought, and thought. Until he broke out in speech in a sudden movement.

_Of same flesh, and sameness seeks to embrace. _

_So of the similar flock they walked in, if not for a wolf among them._

_"Traitor," he said._

_And in the dawn of their battle---_

"Will you shutup! Everyone can hear you! And...nobody wants to hear you!"shouted an elderly man in the hallway. Gerard's door had been kicked down earlier that morning by his scamming landlord. Now it was that many of the sordid inhabitants could annoy him more than they had already, and vice versa. "Silence! You lowly hooligan!" "Oh, bite me you girly punk!"replied the senior citizen with a wheezy voice. "You not know a thing! Leave!"shouted the fervent writer. "What's that?! I turned my hearing aid off, you wuss!"spoke the elder in a louder voice.

Gerard only shook his fist, and cursed under his breath. The senior citizen's laughs could be heard from a distance, but Gerard began to focus once more. The elder had interrupted his deep thought. "Hey look it's that ninny! How have you been, sailor?! Ahahahaaha! Everyone knows what you've in that bag!" Gerard turned to face the complete opposite direction of the doorframe, and closed his eyes, drifting into a more serene place.

"Ooh, soft clouds." spoke the poet in pleasure of the softness. "Well, open your eyes, and you might see something nice to look at rather than feel."spoke a distant voice. Before he had decided to open his eyes, Gerard thought,"_This had better not be one of_ _those trippy, and absolutely repulsive visitations_." He opened them wanting to know what was the occasion. Rubbing his eyes, and putting on his glasses he took in the view around him. Technically, there was no view, it was the same place he had met the fiery-haired lady of DMC who, spoke with an accent in her voice. "You're awake I see." Across from the recently roused poet, stand a scantily clad demoness, or rather a powerful succubus.

Her eyes were two flames, and her skin was...like that of something dead, or inhuman more likely. Black bats plastered her body from the waist down, and covered her wrists like dark foliage. Taking only a few minutes to analyze this, the DMC writer responded the only way he would. He ran quickly to a corner, and let out gagging noises. His response was one of much disgust or perhaps the one that a child would have, after not listening to their mother, and scarfing up tons of food right before they went on a rollercoaster at an amusement park. He panted, and then cried out, "Eeeeeeeeew!", and hurled into the corner some more.

Nevan was confused, had felt insulted, and became annoyed as her target repeated the process for another ten minutes. She walked over to the plagued poet, and exclaimed,"Will you...stop that already!!!!!" The poet looked at her with an expression of recovery, bother, and then blew chunks into the corner once more. Nevan tapped her foot impatiently, the poet composed himself and wiped his forehead, and mouth promptly. Nevan was about to speak when the poet anticipated her words. "Ugh, and I thought the blonde was a horrible underworld courtesan! Do not breathe a word. You have come to visit me to promote the existence of you female characters, right?"spoke the poet with a nonchalant voice. "Well, act--- "WELL, I'M NOT DOING IT!!!!!!!!"interrupted the rude poet in a deafening voice.

It appeared as though a strong wind had passed, for Nevan's hair had appeared to be slicked back, strangely. Nevan partially stunned at the loudness of the short man's voice and hostility, shook it off after a couple of minutes. The poet had crossed his arms across his chest, and looked at the other direction. "I am truthfully here to assist you in promoting the legacy of the sons of Sparda." "You are?"spoke Gerard turning all his attention to the demoness. "Yes, they both travel in the path of a great destiny."spoke the succubus now coming closer to the shorter man. "No fib?"asked the poet. Nevan was closer to snaring him now to do her bidding. "They both lie in a great legacy. Greatest of them all!"uttered the demoness with a determination in her voice. "Hmm." The poet seemed to be spending all his cash on it. "Well, I say that they lie together."spoke the poet.

**At the back of Nevan's pretty head**

SCREEEEEEE! Hold the phone! Stop the vehicle! Hold the phone!! Stop the vehicle!!! Hold the phone!!!! Stop the vehicle!!! HOOOOOLLLLLDDD THE PHOONNNNNNEEEEE! STOP THE VEHICLE! DAMNIT!

**Back to reality, sorta  
**

Gerard stood there with an expression of honeyed thought, and cute frilly images. "Uh, what did you just say?"asked the succubus uneasily. "Ummmm, mmmm, they lie together. Lovers, brothers, twincest...yaoitard! Ah!" Nevan appeared to have very dark circles underneath her eyes. "What...did...you...just...say?"she repeated with a more darker tone. "Ah, yaoi. Bishie, head over heels. Mmmmhmmmhmmm." Twilight zone theme began to play in Nevan's head. That couldn't, wouldn't be possible would it?! "Ah, Dante, Vergil are...lovers with a twisted fate. Mmm." Nevan's head began to spin literally. "Agghhhhhh!" "_Could this be true?"_ Her thoughts clashed, causing only confusion. Nevan screamed, and ran away back through a portal, leaving the badly delusioned poet in the clouds, maybe so literally.

The female friends of Dante had all been awaiting the return of the red-haired seductress of the fallen tower of fear. Lady however had no real concern over such thing. It had only been that Trish and Lucia seemed all too paranoid, and were getting on her nerves. "Hmm, wonder what's taking that guitar demon so long." wondered Trish. Lucia only hicupped in response. "Hmm, maybe he's...no." Lady stood up, she had enough of such foolish debate. "Look why don't you two just----" Lady's rant was cut out by the entrance of a changed succubus. A grey cloud seemed to be suspended over her head, her face was downcast.

Trish stood up, and walked over to the demoness. Lucia looked from behind her twentieth wine glass. Lady only rolled her eyes. "Well, what happened?" Nevan lifted her head to reveal baggy, and red rimmed eyes. Like victims in J-horror movies the girls flinched. "They're...they're...gay! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!" Nevan covered her haggard looking face, and morphed into her devil arm form and flew to a shelf in obscurity. Trish was really fuming, Lucia was beginning to drain a keg from one of Dante's "saved for a special occasion at Devil May Cry vault stash of alcoholic beverages, and Lady well, she was very annoyed and pissed at this whole issue.

**Someplace not far from somebody's imagination...**

Gunshots were ringing in a warehouse. A fierce battalion made up entirely of female members happened to be exterminating an infestation. A marysue infestation. These Amazonians had already pretty much annihilated every marysue sprung from an idiot writer's forehead. The battle had been won easily that mission had only consisted on targets that were typically "save me!" damsels in distress. "Hey, look I found a soccerball."spoke one woman with rockstar hair, as she kicked the head of a marysue that had been beheaded. "Stop playing around that's our claim."spoke another petite woman, who was second in command. "These marysues turn into rubber or something synthetic when then get whacked, anyway. So why care?"spoke the female rockstar nonchalantly. The woman of more dimunitive structure did nothing more than roll her eyes.

Their leader soon appeared. She was a strong woman physically, and emotionally. She was beautiful despite the scars on her face, and the fact that she had only one eye. Her only problem or the thing that would make her repel men, was the fact that she was frighteningly aggressive, and an extreme fangirl. Hence her occupation. Mainly, protecting bishie men. A cellphone began to ring, and the leader answered the call. "Hello." Her eyes narrowed as she took in every detail in the words spoken to her. "Who is this?"

**A. notes: Now ain't that somethin' scary. The paragraph that folllows is just something certainly uncalled for.**

**What had happened sometime after Nevan ran away screaming...**

"Uh?Where am I? Oh." The poet rose to his feet. On an occurance of uncalled for randomness a tall being, in a brown trenchcoat sprang forward, and landed in front of Gerard. He had frightened Gerard due to the suddeness, and his appearance. He seemed to be creeping closer when he broke into a song. He recovered a microphone from his left pocket, and began to test. "Ahem, I'm your boogeyman, I'm your boogeyman. Can't go wrong! I'm your boogeyman that's what I am."

Gerard: "What the hell?"

**So this has been the fourth installment. This fic will wrap up soon. Mmmm, but maybe I'll have a sequel for it, and maybe this time it will involve Dante and Vergil. Anyway if you've never heard of a Devil May Cry anime, then go to my profile page now. This thing is time sensitive so don't waste time! Thanks for reading! It's all trippy now!**


	5. Direct Attack! aka Misfortunes

**Homage**

**Chap. 5:Direct Attack! (Aka Misfortunes)**

_Yaaaay! After almost a year! XD Almost done!_

In the cozy quarters of the fanatical man his writing progress was at its zenith. He had tapped his foot impatiently and drummed his fingers on the top of his desk, waiting for the slow Internet connection.

"Curses.", he uttered.

In impatience and boredom he gazed at the splintered board of wood that served as a door. He faced forward once more, and picked up his third draft. Meanwhile three silhouettes stood outside the apartment building. Facing forward three formidable women each of a different hair color, nodded, and jumped high, as another shot a hook upward. They climbed to the penultimate window of the edifice all in a steady precision skilled as if they were elite kunoichi.

Trish, followed by Lucia and Lady, signaled. She found the breaker system and soon gently placed her hand on it. She sent a small electric current carefully to damage solely one part of the complex. "Finally."spoke Gerard as his access to page finally was granted. "Ah, now let me see..hmmm." The lights in his room began to flicker.

"What the?"Gerard looked upward the lights. The light sources continued to flicker until they emitted light no more completely failing. "Argghhh!"Gerard responded with much anger for the fact that his computer was also cut off.

"Showtime."Trish replied to the success of the objective. Lucia and Lady simply nodded, and trailed behind as the dangerous trio made their way to the fussy poet seeking sweetest revenge.

"Accursed place!"Gerard complained loudly.

He stumbled in the darkness of his apartment. Groping the mundane furniture, the diminutive poet had found the drawer where he kept a flashlight. Flipping the switch on the device, he was immediately startled by what the light had shown on. A fair-haired entity stood before him. The woman looked at him behind her sunshades and smirked. She quickly disappeared elsewhere, away from the arrogant poet's sight.

"Gaah!"the poet screamed and stumble backward falling on his backside. "Ooooh."he groaned as he rubbed his posterior. "I must be hallucinating. These glasses are no good."he said as he adjusted his blue tinted glasses, a gift from his ex-wife. He recovered his flashlight, and headed to the door. The door creaked as he pulled it open. The next thing he saw were about five knives flying toward him glinting in the darkness. He dropped his flashlight, frozen in place with wide eyes. He was to let out a cry of fear when the sharp projectiles had cut into his clothing, hooking onto the garments, and carrying the small man back into his residence. He slammed into the wall, the knives pinning him against it.

Instantly, the electrical power was restored. Light once more filled the room. The sudden illumination stung the poet's eyes. The sound of clicking heels was the only sound along with the poet's groans. The ladies stood before their offender like a firing squad. Gerard blinked and came to from the superficial shock.

"Agghhh!" NO! It it these impure, unattractive wenches! Ahh! Release your filthy grip on me!"the poet writhed, shouted, and insulted.

The women looked at one another. Trish stepped forward. "Whoa. Chill out! We're not gonna kill you. We're just gonna kick your butt for badmouthing us."

The poet heeded not one syllable Trish said, and still tried to wriggle free.

"We've got us a punching bag." Lady uttered as she stepped forward. Though the raven-haired huntress's advance was interrupted by the announcement of a suggestive message Gerard had just received on his answering machine.

The trio's attention was stolen, for the mere second, their faces distorted in disgust. The small man soon cried out in a high pitched voice, tearing another valued shirt in the process. Displaying true cowardice, Gerard sped past Lady and he two other flanks. Although his sprint, had been formidable ad guaranteed hi escape, a small yet costly misfortune occurred to fleeing fan. His foot landed upon a cylindrical object he previously held in his hand.

"Waagh!"the poet screamed as he fell dramatically. The three fierce maidens' gaze briefly until Lucia began to snort and giggle. The three women's laughter soon filled the room caused by Gerard's folly. Slightly embarrassed, but still fearing his corporeal existence Gerard still ran out of his room out into the hall. He looked over his shoulder as he dashed out into the hallway, soon to bumped into a towering, bulky mass.

The collision sent the lightweight man flying back. Gerard looked up and gazed in horror. A buff drag queen stood before the poet. Mascara and eyeliner dripped from the "androgyny's" eyes.

"My mother told me I could never be pretty. She was right!" the gargantuan man in plus size woman's garments broke into weeping.

Gerard entirely repulsed, immediately turned to run in the opposite direction. Brad the Sailor sniffled as he made a final decision. "This life isn't worth living. I'm going to jump."he disappeared to the stairs.

Gerard ran toward the fire exit. He soon discerned luminescent red sign. "Yes! I shall write further!" None of the furies were in sight...until the tall blonde appeared to obstruct freedom. "Damn!"he cursed and rapidly turned back to his apartment. It was life, death, or perhaps severe injury for this man.

He intended to jump out the window to land upon the shades atop doors. He frantically pulled back the curtains, he could hear the furies stalking behind him. Though great unexpectedness struck. A heavily built man in feminine clothes dangled from the window pane outside.

"Aaaah! Help me! My dress is caught! I don't wanna die!"pleaded the transvestite.

Gerard screamed in terror at the sudden sight, as he clumsily began to stumble backward, entangling himself in the velvety curtains. The three women stood at the door dumbfounded. Gerard appear to be a mummy-like entity, squirming, mumbling, and bumping into the walls.

"I think that's the slag we're here to emasculate?"asked Lady pointing at the strange creature.

"I zink zat's a lying figure?"responded Lucia.

"From Silent Hill?"asked Trish.

At the sound of hearing female voices, Gerard panicked like never before. Blindly running in the walls with a harder impact.

"Our work here is done."claimed Trish.

"Why is that?"asked Lady.

"Look at that weak stuff. He's kicking his own ass."said Trish as she broke into laughter, as the struggling Gerard tripped over a stool, and rolled onto the floor. The Valkyries continued to have laugh attack until they took note of the one literally clinging to life outside.

"Zat..big lady is in danger! We must save 'er!"exclaimed Lucia.

"Yeah, alright. We'll go save the huge manlady. Come on girls."yawned Trish.

The women made their steady exit out of the building. Lady, prior to entering the elevator turned and aimed Kalina Ann dispatching a missile at the poet's direction. At the exact moment, Gerard had finally gotten the curtains off his head.

"Haha! Victory!"but soon his content expression faded into a on of incoming despair. "Ahhh! NooOoO! Curses!"the poet screamed in anguish and shielded his face with his arms.

A small explosion had ensued. Gerard uncovered his face to see his home covered in soot, and wreckage scattered. Just as he he opened his mouth to scream melodramatically a blunt object struck him in the back of his head. His consciousness left him on the ground immobile unwary.

**Hrmmmmm...discontinued...disconnected...Just kidding! Next chapter soon to be done...actually already done...but ah well it seals it! This was longer than a I thought haha!**


	6. Hospital aka More Misfortunes

**Homage **

**Chapter VI Final**

**Hospital aka more misfortunes**

The poet fluttered his eyelids and opened his eyes. Everything appeared a blur. He lay back on a gurney for a few more spare seconds. He sat up quickly and wondered briefly why he was in a hospital. Soon, like a boomerang, he recalled collapsing after an explosion in his apartment. His musing was soon snatched from his head as a clear voice called to his attention. A man in a white coat with a stethoscope draped on his shoulders had entered the room.

"So I see you've awoken, Mr...uh...nurse?"the doctor turned and whispered to dark-haired assistant.

"Ah, yes I see."the doctor replied audibly to the whispers of the nurse. The doctor walked closer to the hospitalized poet.

"You're condition is absolutely fine, sir. You've only sustained superficial wounds." Gerard turned to view at his slightly exposed back. A deep purple color manifested. "Riiight."spoke the poet sardonically.

"You're physical condition is stable. However, it appears as though you were in a state of mental deterioration. You committed self-harm to yourself. So for that you will have a shrink, and uh..nurse will fill you in with the rest. I must take my leave now. Have a nice life while it lasts!" The doctor departed cheerily without a care in the world.

"What in the bloody hell are you talking about?! Ugh! Damn! Somebody give me my glasses!"complained the poet.

"Oh. Very sorry sir. I will fetch them for you."The nurse soon left to retrieve his request.

"Utter suckage."said the poet. Blurry vision by far far far away irritated him just as a loutish, illiberal commoner would. He sighed a breath of vexation and began to observe his vague surroundings. The room was brightly decorated, white being the prime theme. A single window existed to the left o f the room, and and unoccupied bed was opposite to Gerard. He pivoted his head to the door frame upon sensing footsteps. His eyes widened and his battered body quivered. Three distinctive femenine figures stood meters away from him. A suppressed scream was caged in his throat. He wanted to deny this was happening, and quickly hid his head beneath the alabaster sheets.

The medical assistant arrived to find a trembling figure beneath the covers of the bed.

"Uh, sir?", the nurse neared the fearful poet.

"No! Don't!",pleaded the poet frantically.

"Sir.",the nurse carefully uncovered the man. She gently placed the glasses on the bridge of his nose. He continued to whimper and wail until the woman in white breathed words once more.

"Open your eyes."she spoke in a serene voice.

Breathing heavily, the poet opened his eyes to an improved view. The poet realized the threat was only imagined. He adjusted his glasses. He gazed at his savior.

In a low voice he showed a rare gratitude in him. "..I am grateful for your much needed time and assistance."

The nurse smiled and bowed curtly.

"Now leave me be! Scram you petty servant in white!"he demanded.

The nurse genuinely shocked took her leave wordlessly, and slammed the door. Gerard, sated, laid back and rested on the bed. He purred to himself i pleasure as he was still alive. He could not wait to continue work on the ever gorgeous twin sons of...Sparda! He pondered the pleasing incarnation of latest Dante. Gerard giggled at the thought, but soon he heard a knock on the door.

"I said no disturbances!"

Few seconds elapsed and the banging on the door persisted. Gereard growled in displeasure and rose from his bed o answer the calling rudely. He opened the door, and his mouth agape was petrified upon seeing what had awaited him. He retreated clumsily landing him in a sitting position.(That's getting stale.) A fearsome group of angry females stood in the corridor. Each held a blunt object in their hands. The toughest looking one who sported scars and an eye patch on her face stepped forward, and retrieved a slip of paper from her pocket.

"You're the Butler, right?"she spoke firmly.

"WHAT!?",shrieked the poet nearly unable to control his bodily functions.

"What's going on?!"shouted the nurse who had previously attended Gerard, pushing through the crowd. The untraditional maidenly precision gazed at her like punished children. Gerard found solacein this. He was spared form the wrath of these she-hooligans.

"We beat down that guy last week. He's...the poet."the nurse hissed as she drew a dented lead pipe. Her face contorted into a wicked grin.

The leader began to speak again as she drew her spike bat, recently used with depressions, and even a tooth impaled on a protruding nails. "Ladies, who are we?"

"We are fangirls!"shouted the women in unison.

"And what do we do?!"

"We, are sworn to protect!"

Fangirls...charge! Pummel him, cease when he is nothing more than a heap of grains!"

The women, raving like maenads leaped on him on command. Gerard recoiled and screamed in pain. He was certain now to spend weeks, months, or even a season in recovery!"

"CURSES! Ahhh!"

Three women all of different hair color were headed to the exit.

"Well, at least he's alive."spoke Trish.

"I think I saw somebody I know."spoke the raven-haired girl.

"Who? The scary chick with the eye patch? She your ex or something?"teased Trish.

"NO!"yelled Lady. "I remember those girls have gone assaulting men, and dismantling Marysues worldwide."

"Sure. So you gave them a call?"Trish continued.

"No I didn't call Lea!"Lady shrieked.

"Haha! Ex-girlfriend!" Trish laughed and fled as an angry Lady pursued her, leaving Lucia to follow.

A pair of youthful eyes had been omnisciently watching over all that had happened. The young boy grinned victoriously and laughed. He closed his cell phone and turned to his companion. "Let's go home, Joule!"


End file.
